


Whore of the Worlds

by AngelPair



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Fisting, Bukkake, Cock Rings, Collars, Dildos, Domination, Enemas, Fisting, Food Kink, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Scat, Nipple Clamps, Omorashi, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Stuffing, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelPair/pseuds/AngelPair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a drunken night out, England wakes up at Italy's house. Things get pretty hot pretty quickly, and soon half of the world seems to be involved. WorldxEngland, extremely NSFW and kinky, could be taken as dub-con. Pretty much a long, unrealistic PWP, in which England is dominated by 8 nations, 2 half nations and one ex-nation. I don't own Hetalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! Before you beginning reading, please make sure you've read the tags and that there is nothing you are uncomfortable with.
> 
> Like I said, this is pretty much just PWP, and is kinda an unrealistic situation, but I wanted to write a canonverse England being completely dominated ^.^
> 
> Well, I hope someone out there enjoys ;)  
> Read on!

England groaned into the pillow as a loud knocking at the door rose him from his doze. He had been half asleep for the past two hours, partially waiting for his hangover to ebb, and, after realising he wasn't in his own bed, partially attempting to avoid discovering which poor nation had ended up taking him home that night. It was clear, however, that his little period of avoidance had come to an end as the bedroom slowly opened.

“Veh, England? Are you awake?” and Italian accented voice called from the doorway.

England groaned again, louder. North Italy, of all the nations. No wonder he didn't recognise the room - he had never actually been far into Italy's house before.

It had been a pretty wild night - a week of meetings had come to an end, and the nations had been released to drink and party before either returning to their hotel or passing out in the street. How he could have ended up in Italy's house from a bar in Berlin was beyond him, though.

“Ah! You are awake, great!” Italy exclaimed, bouncing over to him, “I've been waiting!”

England smiled at Italy, awkward and sheepish, “Ah, I'm sorry to intrude, I didn't mean to sleep for so long, I better be leav -” England stopped moving as he realised that under the sheets he was naked, and flustered, he quickly pulled the sheets back over himself and settled back down. He looked up when he heard Italy giggle.

“Silly, I wasn't waiting for you to leave, I was waiting for you so we could finish what we started last night,” Italy smoothed out an area of the bed covers and sat down, leaning over a startled England.

“Wh-what? What we started last night?” England stuttered, suddenly terrified at the thought of the stupid things he could have done with Italy whilst so drunk.

“Yup,” Italy's usually cheery smile morphed into a predatory smirk as he laid his hand on England's chest and pushed the rising nation back into the bed, “We started something last night, and then you passed out, and now we're going to finish it,” Italy whispered, pushing his face into England's and speaking into his ear.

England froze at the smaller nation's touch and shuddered slightly at the tone of voice – perhaps Italy still had alcohol in him from last night, “I – you see – I don't think -” England tried to form a sentence, but still hungover, and incredibly flustered, he was struggling to get a hold of his thoughts.

Italy giggled again, “Veh, it's okay England, you've just woken up. You don't have to see or think at all - just lie still,” Italy pushed himself up and looked England in the eyes before winking.

Italy took the once again stunned frozen England's wrist in his hand, and before England could comprehend what was going on, Italy had pulled a pair of handcuffs from behind his back and slapped England's wrist into one of the cuffs.

England yelped, and tried to tug his hand out of Italy's grip, but the small Italian was surprisingly strong in comparison to the hungover and recently awoken Brit.

“Shh, England,” he cooed as he threaded the chain of the cuff through the bars on the bed's headboard, before cuffing the Englishman's other wrist. “Like I said, just lie still,” he smiled before sitting up and swiftly yanking away the bed sheets, England's naked form fully revealed.

Confused and a little stunned, England took a second to react to the lack of cover, but he was quickly attempting to curl his lower body in on itself to avoid the thirsty eyes of the Italian standing over him.

“G-git! What the hell are you doing?” England all but yelled as he pulled at the handcuffs keeping him in place.

“Shh, England, you will wake fratello,” Italy frowned slightly and put his hands on his hip, “Do you want him to come in and see you like this?”

England paused in his struggling to consider this, and when he noticed that Italy was expecting an answer, he shook his head.

“Good! So we can get started then,” Italy's cheery attitude returned and he jumped up onto the bed and straddled England's chest.

“Veh, England, you're so lanky,” Italy giggled as he prodded England's arms, “Is that why you always refuse to come swimming with us at the beach?” he giggled again at the Englishman's flustered face.

“I am not! Get off me!” England hissed as he wiggled under the Italian, tugging at the handcuffs.

“Hmm, okay!” Italy agreed surprisingly easily and began to shuffle down the Brit until he was not sitting _on_ the Brit, but sitting between his legs.

“Th-that isn't any better,” stuttered England, whose face had gone cherry red at the Italian's position by his exposed body.

Italy looked up at England and uncharacteristically smirked as he reached forward and lightly trailed his fingers across England's penis.

“Why not? Trying to keep this all to yourself?” his smirk turned into a pout, and simultaneously his finger tips turned into his entire hand, which he wrapped around England's penis before slowly pumping it.

England gasped, before whimpering and tugging at his restraints, “St-stop that!” he tried to demand, though he struggled to get his words out as he felt Italy increase the pressure on his penis.

Italy giggled, “You're so cute sometimes, England,” he smiled, “And so hard already!” Italy looked gleeful at England's rapidly hardening cock, “Would you like something a little more?”

England stared down the bed at Italy, who had stopped pumping his dick and was staring at him expectantly. England wasn't sure what to say – on the one hand, he was naked and hand-cuffed to Italy's bed and felt incredibly embarrassed; on the other, it had been a long time since he had had any form of sexual contact, and even Italy's hand alone felt incredibly good. Eventually, he gave a shaky and unsure nod, and Italy looked delighted.

The Italian wasted no time in shuffling into a new position on all fours, and he rested both his hands on England's thighs as he leant over and engulfed as much of England's penis as his mouth could hold. England gasped and then cried out loudly in pleasure as Italy began to bob his head, not bothering with a slow start. The Italian seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and England was feeling too pleasured to let his pride stop the moans and whines escaping from his throat.

Italy stopped suddenly, removing his mouth from England's penis, and he giggled as England whined and bucked.

“Hmm, you're more of a slut than I expected, England,” Italy giggled again, and England tried to growl at the insult. A quick rub of his penis, however, turned the growl into a needy whine.

Italy stopped his playing of England's penis and froze suddenly, tilting his head. England watched him curiously, before Italy turned to smile at him cheerily.

“Uh-oh, looks like we did wake fratello after all,” Italy smiled mischievously, not seeming to be bothered, but England blanched and began to struggle as he too heard the angry footsteps approaching the door.

“Shh, it's okay,” Italy cooed at the struggling Englishman, and he once again took the Brit's cock in his hands, gently pumping it. England's struggles turned into a buck and a whine, and he could only watch helplessly as the bedroom door slammed open.

“What the hell is going on in here? It is 2 in the afternoon and I am trying to slee-” the angry yelling of the Southern Italian who had appeared at the door stopped when his eyes made contact with those of an embarrassed, yet needy, England.

Romano froze, unsure of what to do, before he suddenly burst out “I – you – b-bastards!” His cheeks reddened as he realised what he had walked into. “What the fuck? I, I -” Romano stopped, unsure of what to say, and turned in an attempt to bolt from the room.

Italy released England's cock then and jumped off the bed, grabbing onto his brothers arm before he could leave. “Fratello, wait! Don't leave,” he whined, tugging at his brothers arm.

“W-wait? Why do we want him to wait?” England yelled from the bed, his release from pleasure seeming to have snapped him back to his senses.

“Quiet, England,” Italy pouted and chastised the blonde as he dragged his flustered brother over to the bed where England lay. “Look, you don't need to be scared,” Italy indicated to the cuffs that bound England to the bed, “He's at my mercy – _our_ mercy, if you want to join us,” Italy smiled deviously, and England, about to protest, shivered at the alien expression.

Romano looked down at him cautiously, though his expression held nothing but disdain, “I-I'm not scared of him,” he scoffed as he looked the Brit up and down. He trailed his hand lightly down England's chest, said nation snarling and trying to wiggle away. England's movements were prevented when Italy gave his cock a harsh squeeze, but Romano retracted his hand anyway.

“Why would I want to join in with _this_?” Romano asked with a disgusted expression, indicating to the naked Englishman.

Italy giggled and approached his brother from behind, taking a hold of the older Italian's wrists, “You're still not very good at lying, fratello,” Italy guided his brothers hands back to England's chest, “I know you want to play with him,” Italy let go of his brother, leaving him to his own devices.

Face red, Romano began again brushing his hands across the Englishman's torso, playing around before stopping at his nipples. He rested one finger on a hardening nipple and rolled it gently, “These look like a woman's,” he commented, before giving it a harsh squeeze. England yelped, and Romano did the same to the other nipple.

From the end of the bed, Italy giggled, and both men turned to look at him in, “He's getting harder when you do that,” Italy pointed to England's rising cock, which had previously begun to soften due to embarrassment and lack of attention.

Romano turned to smirk at England, who looked sheepish, “Are you a masochist or something?” he asked mockingly, and he continued to play roughly with the blonde's nipples.  
England whined and bucked at the attack, though he couldn't deny that the strange mix of pain and pleasure had caused the return of his erection.

“Aww, look fratello, he's dripping!” Italy indicated to England's cock. He looked thoughtful for a second. “I think I have just the thing for him,” he announced, before bouncing off the bed and making his way to a large closet near the door. He rummaged around for a minute, before popping back up beside England on the bed.

“Since you like this so much,” Italy indicated to where Romano was still harshly pulling and twisting at England's nipples, “I found these!” Italy smiled widely at England, whose eyes widened as a two small clamps connected by a thin chain were held up in front of him.

“N-nipple clamps?” he whimpered, “N-no, I don't-” he tried to protest, shuffling as far back as he could when Romano moved out of the way to allow Italy access to the Brit.

“Relax, England, you'll enjoy it!” Italy exclaimed as he straddled the Brits waist before leaning in.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Germany sighed as he approached the front door of Italy's house. He had barely arrived home after picking up a drunken Prussia from a nearby pub and dumping him in his basement, when he had received a phone call from the staff working early at the meeting venue. Naturally, multiple nations had left behind briefcases, jackets, and documents, all of which Germany was required to pick up and sort out.

It was partly his own fault - he had rushed off after Prussia in worry as soon as the meeting had ended instead of staying to check the room was empty of belongings, but he was still exhausted, annoyed, and ready to give Italy an earful. Most of the less important personal belongings he had stored away to return at another meeting, but many important, confidential documents Germany only felt safe returning by hand. And so, he found himself at Italy's front door, carrying the forgetful nation's briefcase, and since he had to bring the case anyway, his jacket and wallet.

Germany knocked and waited a few moments, before knocking again. He sighed when he received no response and checked his watch – it was barely 2pm, and neither Italy nor his Southern brother were likely to be awake. A common visitor to the Italian household, Germany rummaged behind the plant pot he knew held the front door key and let himself in.

As expected, every room that could be seen from his position at the front doorway had it's lights switched off and curtains drawn. Germany shook his head as he turned towards the stairs, intent on frightening the Italian awake and hopefully teaching him to be less of a scatterbrain. He froze, however, once he found himself half way up the staircase, positive he could hear noises coming from the guest bedroom. Straining his hears, he listened harder, though couldn't make out what was going on behind the faraway door. Knowing Italy, the nation had gotten himself into some sort of trouble, and Germany rushed up the the rest of the staircase in order to reach him quickly.

Germany burst into the guest bedroom, door crashing into the wall for the second time that day, and three loud yelps and a clatter came from the room intruded on. The blonde froze at the scene in front of him, which involved a naked England hand-cuffed to a bed, a surprised looking Italian clutching a pair of nipple clamps, and another angry looking Italian picking himself up off the floor.

“What in the hell are you doing here, potato bastard!” Romano yelled suddenly, snapping Germany from his stupor.

“I-” Germany seemed unsure of what to say, more than a little confused (and aroused) by the image in front of him. “I...I have Italy's briefcase,” he offered, dropping said case by the door.

Italy blinked, getting over his surprise, and smiled. He dropped the clamps on England's stomach before rushing to the German and kissing both his cheeks.

“Germany! I'm glad you're here! We were just playing with England, come on over!” Italy grabbed Germany's wrists and tugged the German to the bed.

England flushed as the German stared at him. He met the tall blonde's (worryingly hungry) gaze for a second, before looking away in embarrassment – the Italian brothers seeing him like this was one thing, but the more intelligent and serious German, who was, in a way, a sort of friend of his, was a whole other matter. England was almost thankful when Italy crawled back onto his chest, unintentionally shielding the upper half of his body from the German's view.

“I – uh – I think I should be going,” the German stuttered awkwardly from the bedside, taking a couple of steps back.

“That's right! Go!” Romano shouted as he stood at the best side, arms crossed and glaring angrily.

“Don't listen to fratello, Germany, I know you want to stay! You are getting hard already!” Italy giggled as he indicated to the German's crotch. Germany flushed in embarrassment at this, and looked torn.

“Just stay for a while, and watch, and then if you still feel like leaving you can,” Italy suggested as he got back to work on England, rolling and pinching his nipples back to hardness.

Germany debated this for a moment, and, realising that if he didn't stay he would probably have to relieve himself in the Italian's bathroom before leaving the house anyway, he settled himself against the wall of the bedroom.

Romano huffed quietly, but made no further comment, attention drawn to where England was writhing on the bed.

“Now, we were about to put these on, weren't we England,” Italy reached to pick the clamps up off England's stomach before dangling them in the tied nation's face. England gulped and bit his lip as his eyes followed the metal.

Italy brushed his fingers across England's right nipple, before bringing the opened clamp towards it. He let the clamp close on the hardened bud, and England groaned as Italy slowly turned a small dial, slightly increasing the pressure. Nipple clamps were something that England had never used before, and the sensation was completely new. Although slightly painful, they weren't completely unpleasant, and they did seem to be stimulating his nipples somewhat. So concentrated on the first clamp, he didn't notice the second was on until Italy crawled off him and stood next the the bed. 

Italy giggled, “He looks so cute like this, right, Germany!” Italy turned to the clearly aroused German leaning against the wall.

Germany took a second to glance at the Italian and made a grunt of agreement, before returning his gaze to the figure on the bed.

“Idiots, are you just going to stare at him all day? How long have you been playing with him without giving him any relief?” Romano accused, indicating to the Brit's painful looking erection.

England whined at this, too desperate for release to bother with pride, and bucked his hips in encouragement.

“Ah, you're right, we should be taking proper of our guest,” Italy giggled as he pulled a small key out of his pocket. He fiddled with the handcuffs for a moment before they clicked and released, and England gratefully let his arms fall. Italy squeezed himself in behind the Brit and pulled the man against his chest, tugging gently at the chain connecting the nipple clamps.

England gasped at this, and he tried to look up to see Italy's face from his position on his chest.

“Hm, I think we should make him even prettier, too,” Italy mused as he teasingly rubbed England's thigh, “Germany, can you find something pretty for England to wear? But nothing that covers too much,” Italy asked, and Germany flushed as he nodded and headed to the cupboard.

Frowning slightly at the odd contents, Germany selected out a floral corset, and a pair of white socks that looked likely to go up to England's thigh, before returning to the bed and dropping them next to the two men.

“Veh, perfect!” Italy exclaimed, as England groaned slightly at the clothing choice. “Fratello, help to dress him,” Italy nodded at the clothing as he finally began to slowly pump England's cock, the Brit melting into Italy's chest and panting.

Romano sighed, though he couldn't deny that he got slightly harder at the thought of the Brit wearing such clothing. He made his way to the foot of the bed, and gently pulled on the socks, which England seemed not to notice as he lay gasping and moaning at Italy's hand job.

“I can't put the corset on if he is lying down, idiot,” he grumbled as Italy's eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh, that's right, help me hold him up Germany,” Italy exclaimed as he pushed the dazed England up off his chest. Germany grabbed England under the armpits and hoisted him up to his feet, keeping a grip on the Brit to help keep him steady. Italy sunk to his knees in front of the Brit and continued his assault on the Brit's penis with his mouth, whilst Romano wrapped the corset round his front. He began to tug at the lacing, pulling the corset on tightly, and he bit his lip as he watched the England's form morph into a much more slim-waisted feminine one. 

As the corset was pulled tighter, the cups intended to hold a women's breast brushed against the clamps on England's now very sensitive nipples, and the Brit threw back his head and cried out. Italy's mouth around his penis, combined with the rubbing of his nipples, left him unable to hold on, and with another cry, he finally released, whimpering as Italy let his penis drop from his mouth. 

Germany continued to hold up the Brit, who would have otherwise collapsed, as Romano finished the lacing of the corset, before he let the Brit sink gently to his knees, panting.

“Hm, we need something else to keep him tied up with,” Italy pondered, “I think I have some shackles in that closet too!” he announced, turning to rummage around in the large closet.

“Why the hell do you have a closet full of sex toys and women's clothes?” Romano growled, eyeing Germany suspiciously. 

“That's a secret,” Italy giggled as he pulled out a set of wrist shackles. He grabbed the arms of the still slightly dazed England, pulling them in front of his body, and wrapped the large, black leather cuffs around his wrists. A thick, short chain between them allowed only about 6 inches of movement, and the heavy duty leather was not something that would be easily escaped from. 

Italy nodded, satisfied, “Now, it's my turn for relief,”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter!!
> 
> I've been busy with exams, followed by school going back, followed by a week on a narrowboat (which is not as relaxing as it sounds ^^;;;;;), but, finally, I have a few weeks of holidays and hopefully I will get a few chapters through this fic (though that's not a promise)!
> 
> Enjoy!

 England whined from his position on the floor at Italy's declaration. Post-orgasm, his brain was a little fuzzy, but he knew he all he wanted to do was collapse and sleep. He tested the restraints on his wrist with a tug, but they held strong, and he realised as Italy stepped closer towards him that unless he kicked up a big fuss, he probably wouldn't have a choice in the matter.

“Shh, England,” Italy murmured as he unzipped his trousers, “I know you'll do a good job. Here,” Italy encouraged as he freed his erection from the restraint of his boxers and guided the member towards England's face. After a pause to take in the surprisingly impressive sight, England obediently opened his mouth and let Italy slide his in, closing his lips around the penis. Although drowsy, he was no stranger to giving blow-jobs, and he allowed himself to fall into a familiar pattern of sucking, tongue swirling and head bobbing.

Italy groaned as England worked – he felt like he had been waiting for this forever, what with all the playing and teasing and interruptions. It wasn't long, however, before another desperate presence made its impatience known.

“Hey! I've been waiting almost as long as you have!” Italy heard Romano huff from across the room, and he looked over to see the Southern Italian sat on the bed's edge, arms crossed and looking moody. Romano glared back at him, and Italy giggled.

“Veh, there's plenty of room in here, you should come over!” he suggested, indicating to England's mouth.

Romano snorted at his brother and turned his head away, though after a few seconds reflection and another glance over at the pair, he stood up marched over. “Fine,” he growled, as he began to unzip his trousers, “but you have to move over,” he nudged Italy, who happily moved his erection to be thrusting along England's cheek. England tried to whine (though it came out more of a desperate groan), uncertain about his mouth holding two penises. This drew Romano's attention to him. “And you, open your mouth wider,” he demanded of the Brit as he guided his penis towards the waiting mouth. With it being in his own best interest, England complied as best as he could, straining to open his mouth widely. He groaned when Romano thrust in suddenly, and the Italian too gave a moan as he finally experienced some form of relief.

The two Italians began to thrust in time with each other, both with one hand tangled in the Brit's hair. With his mouth so full, England found it difficult to make any movement to help pleasure the pair, other than relaxing his throat to allow the Italians to enter deeper, so he stayed still, allowing them to do the work.

The next interruption came only a few moments later, and almost had Romano pulling out of England's mouth in horror.

“Fuck,” Romano gave a hiss of pleasure as, although he had stopped moving, Italy, not bothered by the new person's presence, was still moving along beside him. “What the, ahh, fuck are you doing in here?” he growled as he flushed from embarrassment.

England tried to lean his head back to see who had caught Romano's attention, but with both Italian's still gripping his hair, he was unable to. Out of the corner of his eye he could also see Germany looking a little embarrassed as he stared towards the door and tried to hide his obvious erection.

After a moments awkward silence, Romano spoke again. “I asked what you were doing here! Fuck off!” he hissed, still seeming unwilling to pull out of England's mouth, but still looking ready to flee.

“I – uh – I came looking for you, Lovi, you said you would only be a minute...” a stunned and recognisable voice trailed off.

England froze momentarily at the voice, then struggled to pull his head away from the Italian's cocks. They both removed their hands from his hair to allow him to move, and England, though he remained on his knees, whipped round to face the bedroom door.

At the visual confirmation of his suspicions, England paled. To have Italy and Romano see him like this was a little embarrassing, but he could deal with it. To have Germany see him like this was a little weird, but he could deal with that too. To have Spain, a nation he had in the past battled and overpowered, walk in and see him be dominated by the Italian brothers, was _not_ something he could deal with.

England was snapped out of his horrified trance by Italy's cheery voice.

“Spain! I forgot you were staying the night! Now that you are here, you can join us too!” he cheered.

Germany, Romano and England all stared at Italy in horror at the suggestion.

“What? Not a fucking chance, fuck off, bastard!” Romano yelled, evidently embarrassed to have been caught in the act. “Look! England is clearly uncomfortable, go away!” he added, to draw Spain's attention away from him.

Romano's technique worked, and the Spaniard seemed suddenly aware of England's presence, previously ignored in favour of watching the Southern Italians aroused expression. Spain seemed surprised at first to see England in such a position, but soon his expression changed to amused, and then malicious.

“Lovi, I can't believe you would try to leave me out of fun like this!” he exclaimed suddenly, and Italy beamed at the thought of Spain being willing to join them.

“See, Romano, Spain does want to be here, we don't have to send him away!” Italy smiled happily as he pulled England's head back towards his crotch, “So now we can continue!” he cheered as he thrust back into England's mouth suddenly.

England gave a muffled cry of surprise at this, all too aware of the Spaniards presence, though he reasoned that he would probably never live down what the Spaniard had already seen and let Italy continue, trusting Feliciano's Southern brother to get rid of the unwanted presence.

To England's horror, however, Romano simply growled and reinserted himself into England's mouth. “Whatever, I don't care, I'm busy,” Romano huffed as he began to thrust once more, struggling to keep on his angry frown through his pleasure.

Romano noticed as Italy suddenly tensed beside him, gasping and moaning loudly, a sign that he had released. Italy pulled out with a hiss, though with Romano still in his mouth, England didn't seem to be paying much attention.

Taking advantage of having England's mouth to himself, Romano positioned himself so he was more centred in front of England, and began fully thrusting into the nation's mouth and down his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Italy already recovered and talking excitedly with Germany, who still seemed slightly embarrassed, and Spain, who looked uncharacteristically smug. He ignored the irritating scene, and began to focus fully on England as he felt himself reaching his climax. With a gasp, he came, and England groaned softly as the nation finally pulled out, allowing him to relax his now stiff jaw.

Romano turned to see Spain watching them in amusement, and he glared before fixing up his trousers and stepping away from the blond nation on the floor. Said nation also sent the Spaniard a drowsy glare before pushing himself to his feet with his still-bound hands and collapsing onto the bed.

“Ah, there's no time to rest now, England,” Italy bounced over to the bed from where he had been speaking with Spain and Germany, dragging the surprised and unwilling Englishman to his feet, “Not when Spain has only just arrived!” he added, as he grasped his fist around the short chain between England's shackles and tugged him in the direction of the doorway.

The mention of the Spaniard's presence caused England to grimace, though, completely worn-out, he allowed Italy to lead him out of the door, despite being slightly confused at this change. A glance at the room behind him showed Romano looking similarly confused, Germany following the pair out of the door looking almost eager, and Spain rummaging around in the dreaded closet from which Italy had pulled out every other weird item used so far.

England soon found himself being led into Italy's large guest bathroom, only a couple of doors down from the bedroom they had previously been occupying. Germany and Romano both soon appeared at the doorway, and there was an awkward silence between them as Italy hummed to himself as he fiddled with the bathroom taps and England allowed himself to collapse back onto the bathroom floor in exhaustion.

The silence was broken by a shout of “I think I found it!” from the hallway and the appearance of Spain, who was holding a strange collection of bags and tubing.

Romano scowled at the Spaniard's appearance, not recognising the materials he held, and bit back a sarcastic response to Spain's proclamation in favour of ignoring the man altogether.

England, however, took immediate notice of what Spain held, and his eyes widened slightly in horror.

“There's no way – I won't – I -” England was unsure what to say as he eyed what was clearly an enema kit, embarrassment at the thought of such a thing being used on him in front of four other nations causing him to blush a deep red.

“It's okay, England - Spain and Germany wanted to have a turn with you, so I suggested we give you a quick clean out before they begin,” Italy smiled at him far too innocently as he continued to fiddle with the faucet.

England stared up at the Italian in horror, whilst Romano's confused expression morphed into one of understanding. Spain again looked uncharacteristically smug, and Germany, who finally seemed to be adapting to the situation, looked a little less embarrassed as he stepped towards England, who looked ready to bolt.

He knelt in front of the sitting Englishman, who tensed up, and suddenly pulled the smaller blonde forward so that he was positioned on his hands and knees.

Embarrassed, England made a noise of protest and tried to wriggle away, though Germany quickly grabbed onto the Brit's forearms and pulled him back down, forcing him to lie with his face in the German's lap and his bare ass exposed to the small cluster of nations, who were, thankfully, too preoccupied preparing the enema to notice the Brit's position.

“If you remain still for this, I'm sure it will be much easier for you,” Germany warned, though not particularly threateningly, as he watched the small group of nations approaching from over England's back. Italy was holding the now full enema bag and the connected tubing, and Spain was crouching himself down next to England's other end, a small jar of some sort of lube in hand. England shifted in discomfort as he felt the unwanted nation's presence near his exposed ass, and he growled when he heard the Spaniard screwing the lid off the jar.

“Are you ready, England,” Spain asked, somewhat delightedly as he dipped his fingers into the substance.

“Go fuck yourself,” England hissed at the nation, though he soon ended up whimpering as Spain suddenly inserted two fingers at once to coat his inner walls with lube before pulling them out.

England huffed quietly, accepting his fate as he felt a cold metal nozzle poking at his hole – it had been a long day already, and England sensed there was much more activity to come before he could rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and feedback! Can't believe it's been so long, but chapter four is here at last!

England gasped as a steady stream of (thankfully, body temperature) liquid began to pour into him without warning. The sensation, although nothing entirely new to him, was still odd, and his stomach gurgled quietly at the intrusion.

The room was quiet as everyone observed the Englishman, who was chewing his lip nervously as he was slowly filled. He had always found enemas unpleasant, and never dealt particularly well with them, only taking them when necessary, and only ever in small amounts. It was only a minute or two into the enema, at which point England reckoned he must have taken two or three cups of water, that the strange sensation quickly turned into an intensely uncomfortable one, and England groaned loudly as his stomach began to cramp. He wanted reach down and massage his stomach to ease the discomfort, or at least remove the corset to give himself some room to expand, but his arms were still held in Germany's grip.

Italy, noticing England's discomfort, leaned over and did both jobs for him. The corset was untied and left to slip to the floor, and he placed one hand comfortingly on the Brit's back, the other rubbing gentle circles on his stomach. “Come on, you can take it,” he murmured, as England began to pant at the intensifying cramping. “Romano, how much has he had?” Italy turned to ask his Southern brother, who was manning the enema bag.

“Eh, almost a litre,” Romano replied, though he had no idea if that was considered a lot for an enema.

“Okay, he can do a little more than that,” Italy nodded, “Just hang on for a bit longer then, England, one and a half litres and you'll be done,” he said, turning his attention back to the Brit, who nodded, trying to relax into Italy's hand. And least he wasn't hard now.

“That's a litre and half,” Romano announced after a little more time had passed, and the cramping Englishman groaned in relief as his arms were released and the tube was removed from him.

“There, I told you you could do it!” Italy announced cheerfully, “Now, do you want to hold it for a little while?” he asked with a small smirk, and England shook his head wildly. “I didn't think so, shall we leave you in peace for a few minutes then?” he asked, to which England nodded, gasping slightly as he stood.

Germany and Romano left along with Italy. Spain, unbeknownst to the other nations, was privately celebrating the wonders of modern technology as he left the bathroom. Smart phones, internet, and photo apps were certainly benefiting the Spanish man today, who had kindly shared snapchat of the events with his two closest friends - now, to the unknowing Brit's non-benefit, on their way. Spain smirked smugly as he eventually ambled into the bedroom to wait with the others for England's return.

“How do you know he is not just going to run away?” Romano snorted as Italy bounced impatiently on the bed.

“Because his clothes are in this room, silly,” Italy smiled at his brother, and the door clicked open, revealing an embarrassed and practically naked Englishman.

Italy's smile widened when he entered, “I'm sure Spain and Germany are excited to have a turn, they were waiting!” he smiled, and England blushed. He didn't really want to have sex with Spain again, seen as he had once hated the nation (and was still not overly fond of him), and their fucks were nothing but bitter and hateful, but he had nothing against Germany...and he certainly did appreciate a good fuck from a man a lot bigger and stronger than him. He had a type, you could say.

“Si, were waiting, come over to the bed!” Spain smirked, and England growled at him, heading over to the bed regardless. Okay, being honest with himself, he liked an angry, rough fuck too, and he knew Spain would provide, and he was maybe a bit more willing than he would admit to have sex with the nation.

“Here, we'll take these over for you, you seem like you've had them on long enough,” Spain grinned maliciously, yanking the nipple clamps off by the chain connecting them. England cried out, clutching his chest in pain as he glared at the Spanish nation. Romano hit said nation round the back of the head.

“Don't be an ass,” he chastised, and Spain's malicious grin was replaced by his usual, cheerful one.

“Of course, Lovi,” he smiled, “You can go first, if you'd like,” he turned his smile to Germany, who nodded and in turn looked to England.

England shivered slightly at the lustful gaze of the German, and he crawled onto the bed, nipples still aching from the clamps, and their rough removal. He didn't want the situation to become awkward with the not-so-forward German, so he decided to act first. “How do you want me?” he asked, not as embarrassed at practically whoring himself out in front of a group of nations as he would usually be, considering what had taken place so far.

“On your front,” Germany grunted roughly, and England complied, rolling himself onto his knees as the German settled between England's spread legs. Already slightly stretched from his preparation in the bathroom, it only took a little bit of lube and not very much time for Germany to have three fingers fully inserted, and England hummed in pleasure at the gentle thrusts. Feeling around a little longer, Germany seemed satisfied when he felt England stiffen and gasp. With his prostate located, the fingers were pulled out, and Germany positioned himself ready to enter.

Glancing up by accident, England met the gaze of Spain as Germany pushed in. He didn't know what state his appearance was in, but he assumed it was an embarrassed degree of pleasured, as the Spaniard's smirk – one he had seen rarely since the days of pirates and armadas – grew. Letting out a breath as Germany fully inserted himself - having predicted the blond would be large - England relaxed as much as possible, breathing steadily and pushing out in the way he had learned to from past experiences.

“Don't come now, England – you have to wait until my turn, at least,” Spain purred from across the room, and England ignored him, instead focusing on the pleasure as Germany began to thrust. The larger man, apparently, had listened, and he tightly gripped the the base of the Englishman's cock, causing England to growl in annoyance. This earned a few much harsher thrusts and England gasped, forgetting any irritation and moaning instead. Germany stilled in confusion at the strange reaction to a move that should have been painful, and Spain's smirk grew.

“He likes it rough, trust me,” he advised, and England glared up at him shakily. The fact that he had bottomed to Spain multiple times in the past was not something he had wanted to be world news, however, the revelation wasn't all bad for him, as Germany was quickly continuing at the rough pace, slamming the smaller Brit into the bed with each thrust. Apparently, this way worked best for the both of them, and it was equally nice to know that Germany had no intention to cause him displeasure.

It wasn't long until both nations were a complete mess, Germany groaning and sweating and England panting and writhing. However, the German kept his tight grip on England's cock as he came, preventing the Brit from following suit. England tried not to be too disappointed in his missed orgasm, knowing that there was more to come.

“That was a nice show, England,” the Brit's focus was drawn back to Spain, who already had his underwear down, cock clearly hard as he stood at the end of the bed. He felt Germany slip out, but didn't pay much attention.

“Impatient?” England panted, though he would have growled it if he had been able to.

Spain laughed, “Watching was fun, but I'm glad my turn is here,” he grabbed England by the upper arm and pulled him roughly towards where he stood at the end of the bed. Knowing Spain's preferences, England rolled onto his back and allowed his legs to be lifted onto the Spanish man's shoulder's.

“Guess you wont need prepared after that?” Spain hummed as he positioned himself.

“Not for you, no” England sneered back, earning a growl and a sudden thrust from the nation above him. England threw his head back and groaned, ready to come whether the Spaniard wanted him to or not. A hand came down again around the base of his cock and England growled, glaring up as Spain continued to thrust.

“I'm not going to be kind enough to hold this the entire time, but I will warn you, it's in your own best interests not to come until I say so,” Spain let go of his cock then, and Arthur gasped as the pressure left.

“Wh-what do you mean?” he panted, Spain finding his prostate and causing him to lose himself to pleasure again.

“I mean you're in no position to be displeasing us, so you should do as I say or there will be a lot worse coming your way,” Spain grinned in a malicious manner he reserved only for the ex pirate and very few others. At the mention of “us”, England suddenly remembered his company, and glanced around to find that only Germany was still in the room.

“Where...where are the – ah – Italies?” he asked, before being forced to screw his eyes shut from pleasure. Spain was going at him harder than Germany had, knowing from experience exactly how to fuck the English nation.

“Oh, they went to get the door,” sweat trickled down the Spaniard's brow as he kept up the pace as fast he could.

“The doo-ahh!” England's worried question became a scream as something in him snapped and he felt himself violently orgasming, completely lost to the world as he ejaculated in spurts across his own stomach. Panting and groaning, he stared at the ceiling as Spain continued to pound into him. Flopping his head to the side, he froze, horrified, but too exhausted to anything but stare lethargically at the blurry figures of two of his worst nightmares.

“Fucking...bollocks,” he groaned as he felt Spain finally finish, pulling out and leaving to greet his friends.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I left everyone waiting for so long, and I'm grateful for all of you that are still here <3 You all seem to like this gross sin, so even if updates are very slow, I won't abandon a work that still has interested readers :D
> 
> Also sorry if this chapter seems rushed and not so great, I re-wrote it a couple of times and it still wasn't coming our right. So I decided to just write it one last time and go with it, even if it's still bad. At the end of the day this isn't some beautiful, intricate piece of writing that has to be tweaked to perfection. It's fucking fanfiction porn. So enjoy <3

The next thing the dazed and tired Brit registered was the sensation of being momentarily airborne. Before he could even yelp, he was dropped into a lap, landing with his face to a familiar smelling chest.

 

“F-frog,” England growled, wriggling away immediately. Whilst Prussia stood at the door, probably a little hesitant about the abundance of nudity, France was no stranger to these situations and had chosen to harass England immediately.

 

“Ah, Angleterre, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time,” France sighed dreamily, attempting to reach out and stroke England's hair. Said nation was rapidly pushing his tired body away from France and across the bed, “I wouldn't have even believed it if Spain had not sent that picture,”

 

England froze at that. “P-picture?” he sputtered, twisting to face the Spaniard with an expression of shock and horror. England was not the only one displeased.

 

“Idiot!” Spain, being assaulted by an angry Italian, was too busy to pay attention to the shocked Brit, “Why would you take a picture of this? This is _not_ the sort of thing I want fucking immortalised,”

 

“O-ow, don't hit me,” Spain whined, trying to push the Italian out of reach, “It was just a Snapchat from when we were in the bathroom. I didn't save it!”

 

“I did,” Prussia, still at the room's entrance, put in unhelpfully, turning everyone's attentions away from Spain.

 

Romano hissed at him. “Can you go back to the shitty basement you came from? You're probably the person we need here the least,”

 

England silently agreed, though he didn't say anything to bring attention to himself whilst he pulled the blankets around his nearly nude form. The shackles, even though they allowed for movement, were becoming incredibly annoying and made the task much harder than necessary. Eventually, suitably covered, he distracted everyone's focus from Romano's continued rant.

 

“You can delete your screenshot and go home,” he growled, “and you can fuck off too, France. The fun is over, there's nothing here for you anymore,”

 

France only laughed, and Prussia clearly felt no more threatened. “You're a mess,” he snickered, approaching the bed. Arthur couldn't do too much to retreat without exposing himself so he spat at Prussia instead. The ex-nation wasn't bothered.

 

“It's cute, you look very well ravished,” Francis cooed, reaching to the Brit again and being slapped away.

 

“I mean it. All of you can fuck off now, and Italy, don't give me that look. There are far too many people here for this to continue,” he attempted to glare, but it probably wasn't too threatening considering the blush he could feel across his face.

 

“Hm? But this isn't over yet. Wasn't there something I told you _not_ to do, and that you definitely did,”

 

England wanted to curse, but instead settled for a silent glare at the Spaniard. He had hoped Spain would have been to busy with Romano to remember.

 

“Tut tut, naughty Angleterre. What has he done?”

 

“I've done fucking nothing, he was being unreasonable,”

 

“Well, France,” Spain chose to ignore England completely, “I told him not to orgasm and he did. He's not getting away with that,”

 

“Ooh, shouldn't have disobeyed Spain,” Prussia snickered, and England turned his glare to the ex-nation.

 

In the background, Romano snorted and rolled his eyes, “Oh no, he disobeyed the tomato fuckhead. Terrifying,” he muttered sarcastically, though England seemed oddly nervous.

 

“I can be terrifying, right England?” Spain's smile seemed innocent, but had an edge to it, which Romano didn't seem to notice as he rolled his eyes again.

 

“Uh...” England didn't really want to relay some of the ways he had seen an angered Spain act, but luckily he was saved by Italy bursting unexpectedly into the room and surprising nearly everyone, happily declaring that he “brought it” and waving a wooden spoon around in the air.

 

“What the hell are you doing making pasta at a time like this, idiota? When did you even leave the room?” Romano was clearly completely baffled, and England was really beginning to question the older Italian's naivety. The purpose of the spoon, to England at least, was clear.

 

“Spain asked if I had one earlier! He wanted to use it on England” Italy explained, relinquishing the spoon to the Spaniard, and England quickly decided he wasn't having any of it.

 

“Well he can fuck off,” England snarled. His anger quickly turned to shock as he was yanked not just out from under the covers, but into the air. “Stop manhandling me,” he screeched as he was thrown roughly, belly first, into Spain's lap.

 

“Gracias, Prussia,” he heard Spain above him, and if he wasn't so winded, he would have cursed. A moment ago, he hadn't thought it could get more embarrassing than being seen ravished and naked in front of six other nations, but apparently, he had been wrong. To at least maintain some dignity, he began to squirm violently, refusing to submit to such a humiliating fate. “Put me down,” he hissed after his voice came back to him.

 

“Stay still,” Spain grunted back, frustrated and struggling to hold on to the wriggling Brit, “Stay still, I mean it!” he gave a look to his two friends, who both backed off with a shake of their heads.

 

“This is your problem to deal with,” France gestured to England's kicking legs, “I'm looking forward to my turn, but I do not wish to go home with a bruise today,”

 

“You're going to go home with several once I get my hands on you,” England spat, trying to use the bed sheets to pull himself out of Spain's grasp.

 

“Just try hitting him,” Prussia suggested, amused by both Spain's frustration and England's embarrassment, “Ha, this is the most excitement I've had in months,” he broke off into laughter after England managed to twist enough to weakly strike Spain in the face.

 

“Why are you even here?” Germany spoke up for the first time since France and Prussia entered. The question was aimed at Prussia, but the German seemed displeased by the French nation's presence also. Prussia didn't respond, but like any mature older brother, he pulled a face at Germany before returning his gaze to the action.

 

“Good fucking question,” Romano grumbled, rolling his eyes, “this is too weird for me, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me,”

 

England watched in semi-despair as probably the closest current thing to a voice of reason left the room, before he immediately resumed his struggling. He was not going to be humiliated over the Spaniard's lap if he could help it. “I mean it, put me down – AHH,” England yelled and tensed up as the spoon came down with a hard crack.

 

“You were right Prussia, that stopped him,” Spain seemed pleased, but England was not, and resumed his kicking immediately.

 

“I swear Spain if you do not let me go this instant I – FUCK,” the spoon struck again, and as England tensed Spain found the opportunity to trap the Brit's legs between his own.

 

“That's better,” Spain smiled, “Does it hurt? Your ass is welting just from two strokes. I can use my hand instead if you'll be still,” Spain offered, rubbing the wood threateningly across England's ass cheeks.

 

“Aw, that's a kind offer, Spain,” Prussia cackled as he crouched down before England's face. He was about to pinch the Brit's cheek mockingly, but England spat at him instead. Prussia frowned, “Maybe too kind,”

 

Spain laughed. “Maybe. He has to beg for it too, then. Well, England?”

 

“If you want to live to see tomorrow you will put me down immediately,” England hissed, trying to dislodge Spain's legs, trapping his own. If it wasn't for the shackles, he could have clawed the bastard's face off already, but he chose to dig his nails tightly into Spain's calf instead. For England, the issue was not just that the current situation was humiliating, but also that if Spain didn't let him down _soon_ , England was likely going to be facing further, much more humiliating repercussions, involving his body and its reactions to certain stimuli.

 

Spain, of course, didn't react to the weak clawing. “One last chance to beg before I continue with the spoon,”

 

England glared at the wall and ignored him. It didn't last long, when the spoon cracked down again, even harder than the last two times. It hurt, and his eyes watered. Even so, his cock, trapped between his belly and Spain's thighs, twitched. _Fuck,_ he thought. It was exactly what he _didn't_ want to happen.

 

“Don't hit me with the spoon,” he eventually relented, in hopes that more gentle treatment might bore his body and reverse the erotic effects. Spain only laughed.

 

“That wasn't begging,”

 

“Please don't hit me with the spoon,” England tried again, but instead of putting the spoon down, Spain brought it down upon England's ass, hard. The Brit's cock twitched again and his eyes watered.

 

“You know that's not what I want to hear,” Spain tutted, and England grit his teeth. Did he really have to go so far to please the bastard nation?

 

“Please spank me with your hand,” he tried one last time, entire face flushed red at uttering such an embarrassing plea in front of multiple witnesses, “Please,” he added again, for good measure. This seemed to satisfy Spain, and England gave a huff of relief as the spoon clattered to the floor.

 

“And that's no wriggling either, or I can get Italy to find something worse,” Spain's hands were unpleasantly warm as they rubbed – or, more, fondled – England's already burning ass cheeks, “Understand?”

 

“Yes, get it over with,” England hissed, using an attitude of defiant irritation to try and trap some of his remaining dignity, but France interrupted before Spain could continue the punishment.

 

“I do not think you should continue yet, mon ami. My sexual instincts are tingling and I have something I want to check out first,”

 

England did not like the sound of that, and he tensed at France's approach. He didn't dare struggle in case the spoon came back, but as it turned out, it didn't matter anyway – France _knew_ about England's arousal, and only tutted as, crouched to be level with Spain's knees, he observed the hard cock visible under England's stomach.

 

“I knew it would take more than a bit of pain to get you to say something so embarrassing,” England couldn't see France's face, but he had no doubt the nation was smirking, “You see, Spain, he is hard as a rock. I think he quite preferred the rougher treatment - right, England?”

 

England, of course, did not respond, nor did he look up at anyone in the room. That he found pain erotic was not that embarrassing a fact, but that the pain from _spanking_ was included in that was not something he wanted to be public knowledge. He couldn't hold his tongue forever, however, and he ended up letting out a loud gasp and moan, jolting in Spain's lap, as France grabbed hold of his erection. It was just as much a confirmation as a verbal “yes” would have been, and there was truly no hiding things now.

 

“I think you should continue with the wooden spoon, Spain. It seems like he would prefer it,” France leered, and England's growl was cut short by an (incredibly pleasurable) squeeze of his cock.

 

“Hm? But that's not very fair after he did what he was told,” Spain's confusion would have been more sweetly stupid had he not been ruthlessly pounding England into the bed just ten minutes earlier. Being honest with himself, England was starting to care less and less about whether they used a hand or a wooden spoon or a spiked whip, he just wanted to get it over with so that he could escape from the humiliation (and also possibly by this point have an orgasm). He grunted in impatience and tried to wriggle, but all that meant was more sensation on his cock, causing him to give a small, embarrassing moan. He didn't even care when Prussia forced the spoon back into Spain's hands, wanting only either to be removed from the situation entirely or to lose himself completely to pleasure.

 

“Just hit him again,” Prussia also sounded impatient and Spain did as he was told. This time, with his cock being intentionally thrust into a hand and not accidentally rubbed against his stomach, the pleasure was ten-fold, and England moaned loudly. Prussia laughed, sounding a lot closer than England remembered him being. When he looked up through bleary eyes he found himself almost face to face with the ex-nation, who was crouched down in front of him. England decided against spitting this time.

 

“I always knew you liked it rough, but you never told me you were this much of a masochist,”

 

England almost spat then, but France soothed his anger with a slow rub of his cock, at the same time Spain chastised with a harsh swat of the spoon. England cried out loudly this time, the simultaneous pain and pleasure overwhelming him. He was ready to let go of all dignity and start thrusting into France's hand like a dog, but the French nation's tutting snapped him back to reality.

 

“Of course he is a masochist Prussia. You should only have to sleep with him once to realise. How you ever maintained any sort of sex-life whilst so blind to your partner's needs is beyond me,”

 

Prussia wasn't bothered by this, and only cackled at France, “Hit him again, Spain,”

 

This time there was not one swat, but three, and England vaguely noticed he was drooling as the sharp pain on his backside mixed with the comfortable pleasure coming from his crotch, where France was now steadily and slowly thrusting his fist. One more strike of the spoon and something in England apparently decided that France wasn't going fast enough, and as he had almost done earlier, England was now actively thrusting back into France's hand. At first a few experimental pushes, before he was soon twitching his hips quite rapidly into the fist.

 

Spain laughed above him, also settling at a steady pace in which to strike England, each hit of the spoon adding so much pleasure that England could hardly bare it. He flushed, but Spain, at least, seemed to be the only one finding humour in the situation. From what he could see of the others – Prussia in front of him, and Germany and Italy in the background, there was more arousal than amusement. That made things not-so-bad, England supposed as he completely lost himself to the pleasure.

 

It was just a few more swats, a few more thrusts, and one, big, pleasure-filled moan, and England came once again. It was his quickest reached orgasm of the night, but also his most pleasurable, and all he saw was crimson as he squeezed his eyes tight and his body tensed. He came down from his high with a gasp and a wince, truly feeling the pain on his arse cheeks now that the arousal had passed. But he was comfortable and he didn't mind so much as he relaxed in his position over Spain's lap. It was a small moment of post-orgasm bliss, but he didn't get to relax for long as Spain was lifting him up and onto the bed, and France was excusing himself.

 

“I have to make a call, mes amis,” England was feeling too lethargic to really care, though he was slightly glad to temporarily see the back of the frog, “Prussia, you can help take care of England until I get back, oui?”

 

England also didn't care when he was manhandled again, this time by a cackling Prussian. “Of course, France, I'll look after him well,”

 

Something didn't sound so good about that, and as England looked up into the mirthful face of the ex-nation, he realised it would have perhaps been better if France hadn't left the room at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of news – I now have a tumblr exclusively for fanfiction stuff. You can find and follow at angel-log.tumblr.com :D
> 
> Please check it out! I'll be posting all sorts of info on the progress of my fanfictions, as well as posting some shorter stories and story extras. You can also ask questions and make requests there, as you can here and on my main blog.
> 
> This blog is separate from my main tumblr, good old AngelPair, and is not a side-blog. Therefore, I wont be active all the time, but I'll check in on it frequently.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for reading, and thank you to anyone who checks out my new blog!
> 
> Also thank you for so many kudos, as well as so many wonderful reviews :D If it wasn't for all of you and your encouragement, who knows how much longer it would have taken to get this out. Hope the next chapter comes to me soon :D


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